A Safe Place to Sleep
by RahDamon
Summary: England is a beacon of strength and comfort to many, especially when you are in one of your most vulnerable state of mind - asleep.  Kink Meme Deanon,  nearly  unrelated series of oneshots
1. Always and Sometimes CanadaEngland

Also this is a Kink Meme Deanon and the first of 6 oneshots; except of the two oneshots that focuses on each of the Italy twins and England none of the oneshots are related

What else? Oh yes, a disclaimer .. which I will only say once! and never again!

Hetalia doesn't belong to me but to some funny Japanese guy who has a good sense of humour .. ergo not me .. I'm not funny, I'm not Japanese and I am most certainly not a guy .. I think I would notice something dangling between my legs, you know.

This chapter is Canada/England

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><p><strong>Always and Sometimes<strong>

Sometimes he cursed his own existence. Sometimes he hated the fact that he survived wars and mortal wounds. Sometimes he really wanted to go to a therapist. But how do you explain to a therapist that you have nightmares about the Great War and the Second World War when you are in the year 2011 and look like 19?

And he had nightmares, terrible nightmares. He really wondered why they showed up now and not directly after the wars.

Always he saw them first. Fighting against his soldiers, horrible demons of green and blond – although not every enemy was blond-haired and blue-eyed – and his brave men were dying, the screams stuck in his head and he knew who would miss them.

Then, then he was always drowning in a sea of blood, the thick liquid sucking him under and filling his world with red, crimson red that turned to black. He could taste it in his mouth – rusty and bitter and somehow so very sweet – when he was hoping for air.

The end, however, was always the worst. Suddenly he would be in a place with nothing around him. A barren land of snow and ice and he felt so empty, so alone and the connection between him and his people seemed to be missing and full of panic he would storm around to search for them, search for somebody in the vastness of his land.

And when he finally found them after spending light years – thousands of kilometers – seeking and looking for them they would look at him, eyes filled with tears and contempt and hate. The cries of "Why did you let us die? Why did you let our husbands, sons,nephews, grandchildren die? Why?" would tear right through him and rip him apart.

Waking up never helped. He would go to sleep again and the nightmare would continue. He was at his wit's end.

His brother – normally so dim-witted, so carefree and happy-go-lucky – had noticed he was off and inquired the reasons for it. It hadn't take long for him to crack – being ignored so often hadn't steeled him against a persistent investigator on a mission – and he had spilled his guts about his nightmares.

But this one time his brother couldn't help him, he had known yet he had endured all the medicine and treatments his brother had provided him with. They didn't work.

His brother had sighed then clearly no idea how to solve this problem when he had had a flash of genius.

"Go ask England, if he let's you sleep with him. I betcha the old man won't say no. And I love crawling into his bed after watching horror movies. Maybe he can protect you from nightmares as well as he protects me from ghosts."

His brother had looked at him with such a hopeful smile he didn't dare tell him that he thought England couldn't help him. Nevertheless he had made arrangements with England to stay at his house during the next G8 meeting that coincidentally was held in London.

On the phone the older nation had sounded happy to have him over and so when the time for the meeting had come he had packed his baggage and made his way to England's home. Arriving there he was still a bit angry that Kumaku – the only blanket of comfort he had though it was his bear – wasn't allowed to accompany him this time. But he attempted to hide his anger as not to insult England who graciously was lending him his guest room.

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><p>That led him to the situation he was in right now. Nervously he was standing in front of England's bedroom door and shifted from one foot to the other.<p>

England had been happy to see him and to his surprise hadn't thought of him as America. His surprise had to be obvious since the green-eyed man had laughed softly saying that he very well knew who was before him and unlike his brother he wasn't loud and overbearing. He took it as a compliment.

Honestly he had tried to sleep in the little guestroom but the warm red color of it reminded him too much of the darker tone he would be sure to see in his dreams now that the light wasn't there anymore to make it so warm.

"No meaning in drawing it out, Canada, just get it over with, so you can retreat with your tail between your legs when he refuses to share a bed with you.", he said to himself and knocked on the door before his courage flew away from him.

Hesitantly he stepped in after he heard the softly yelled "Come in." It wasn't as dark here as in his room but that could be because of the lamp that gave England the light he needed to read the open book on his lap.

It was kind of eerie how the shadows danced on the wall and made it seem as if mystical battles were fought on blank canvases. In the blink of an eye they transformed to grimaces of hate and disgust.

He turned his gaze to England who was watching him with inquiring eyes. So Canada took a deep breath and stuttered.

"E-england, w-would you mind if I could sleep with you?" He rushed through it and his eyes were closed tightly waiting for the humiliation that surely was soon to follow. He must ´have looked pitiful since his former guardian just whispered " Sure, you can, lad " and a gentle smile greeted him when he dared to open his eyes.

Before England could think twice about his offer he slipped into the bed next to him. Canada wasn't sure what to do now. Should he just sleep or do something?

Then he heard a sigh and a question was murmured to him.

" Why do you want to sleep in my bed, lad?"

He just answered with a "I can't sleep" yet England seemed to be able to read more out of it since he began patting his head. He stroked his curl and gently his hand made its way over his head. Just sometimes stopping to finger a strand of hair more firmly or to massage his scalp.

It was very relaxing and Canada didn't notice himself shifting nearer and nearer to England until his head and chest lay on the one petting his hair. He became aware of it when he registered a heartbeat under his ear and in one moment his entire body became tense.

England didn't stop petting him nor did he move away. The island nation just kept reading without glancing at him. Canada observed England for a while – he had never noticed but Arthur was kind of beautiful – and when his host didn't show any sign of changing his behavior he let his head rest on his chest.

The heart of England – London, funny now he was on and in it – had a strong and regular heartbeat, a soft boom-boom and it soothed Canada's mind. He didn't notice himself getting lulled to sleep by that comforting rhythm nor did he notice England's understanding and strangely parental smile when he turned off the lights and settled himself to sleep.

The next morning he was awoken by the singing of birds his head still on England's chest, the heartbeat still strong and the scent of roses and rum – such a strange mixture – surrounded Canada.

Sometimes he decided he should listen more to his brother.

And always he would go to England when he had personal troubles from now on.

He never had any nightmares sleeping next to him.


	2. The Scent of a Dragon RomanoEngland

Second chapter is Romano(South Italy)/England

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><p><strong>The scent of a dragon<strong>

Dammit, he hadn't wanted to go to this stupid trip with his stupid fratello and the potato bastard who dragged the whole G8 with them to this stupid camping trip because they wanted to improve the relationships between the countries. Yet he was forced to accompany them since his Veneziano used his little puppy eyes and waterfall of tears to convince him.

And look in what situation he was right now!

Romano swore the next time he saw his little brother he would strangle the little pest and pay the world a favor. For now he just could glare at England and bemoan his fate.

The camping trip started out just fine. Well, at least any normal person would say this but Romano found something wrong with every little detail. His complaining nearly brought Germany to the end of his patience but Veneziano always kissed him when he threatened to lose his composure.

Of course Romano noticed this and his mood worsened. Not only did he have to spend the little free time he had in the company of the potato bastard, the hamburger bastard and all other kind of bastards here, no, he had to watch his brother and Germany flirt with each other!

And then the torture began. The mountain they had decided to climb on and camp in was in truth not that big. It had however many cliffs and traps that just were itching to trip someone. It wasn't easy and certainly not an enjoyable journey. The only ones smiling and chattering (or kolkol-ing in one case) after two hours of climbing were the pasta obsessed idiot ,the fast food obsessed bastard and the creepy, stay-as-far-as-possible-if- you-know-what's-good-for-you bastard or to say it simpler : Veneziano,America and Russia.

China was complaining loudly that he was too old for something like this, France was sniffing that his beautiful feet would be marred if he took one more step and mon dieu you couldn't destroy a beauty like him while Germany was frowning at all of them muttering that they didn't have any condition.

Russia was wearing his creepy grin and America and his brother were discussing the pros and cons of instant noodles. North Italy was firmly against it preaching that only self-made pasta should be called pasta or noodle and everything else was just a cheap imitation while America thought that noodles were noodles, it didn't matter if it they were homemade or not.

Idiot Bastard.

The only one not complaining or screeching or being otherwise creepy was England who marched on without any sign of exhaustion. Pretty good for an old bastard that only drank tea and alcohol thought Romano to himself.

Finally Germany ordered a break of ten minutes in a plateau. Lovino had to admit the sight was beautiful and while he wasn't as good as his brother at drawing portraits his painting skills were unmatched in landscape painting. He itched to capture the view.

The plateau had a cliff on one side and the rest were stones and some pathetic trees that seemed to want to merge with the ground. The view wasn't all that great in reality but it had a rawness, an ancient aura, a devious nature he couldn't resist. Romano really wanted to paint it and catch his feelings. Unfortunately he didn't have brushes or colors or even canvases to paint on in his bag.

He was so lost in his thoughts he wasn't aware of the fact the he crept nearer and nearer to the edge of the cliff and he also didn't notice England standing next to him. But when the stone crumbled beneath him and the other nation he was forced to return to the real world only to see the horrified looks of his brother, America who had apparently stomped his foot on the ground and broke it and all the others as he fell.

He couldn't even regret that he had put down his bag on the other side of the plateau where his sleeping bag and all his other necessities were before he blacked out.

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><p>The first thing that popped up in his mind when he woke up was "Damn it, Spain, where are my tomatoes?". It took just seconds, however, to feel the pain in his head and in one of his ankles and be reminded of the situation he was in.<p>

His eyes shot open to see that the sun had set and he was in a sleeping bag shone on by a fire. He clearly heard the rustling of burning wood and could make out every spark so close he was to the fire. Romano looked around him and could spot England sitting just a few meter beside him and carving something out of wood.

The knife he used for that ran up and down the piece of wood firm and certain in its pace and Lovino simply watched how out of a piece of wood without any form a beautiful dragon came to life. Its wings pressed tightly to its body and the snout opened to shoot fire any moment and one claw threateningly in the air.

Just as he finished the figure England spoke.

" I see you are awake. How is the ankle?"

Blinking Romano looked at England before responding that it hurt like all fucking hell and wasn't that clear? and when did he get to eat something?

For good measure he glared at the Brit who just rolled his eyes.

" I could make something", he finally said and Romano's orbs widened before whimpering and crying out " I'm so young, dear god, what did I do to deserve to die?" And England was obviously getting pissed off because he growled at him to shut up.

Hey, if he didn't want his cooking insulted he should learn to cook better. Just saying.

For a while silence ruled between them – well, after Romano had shut up about dying at least. England corrected his wooden creature here and there making it more stunning and the brunette could just admire his skill in carving. The dragon looked nearly life-real.

Standing up England stretched to work out the few kinks in his back and threw a new peice of wood into the fire making the flame try and fail to reach the sky. He sighed and stepped to South Italy who was staring up at him from his position on the ground.

"What do you want, tea bastard?", Romano spat when England just kept standing in front of him. These emerald orbs were fixated on him and he became kind of nervous.

" Move a little", he was ordered in a commanding voice. Automatically he made more room in the sleeping bag but choked when he felt England sliding in beside him nearly bursting the sleeping bag at its seams.

Romano wanted to shout "What the Hell" but he was prevented from doing that by the island nation pressing one hand on his mouth and explaining that they had only one sleeping bag and the nights were cold. And bloody hell he wouldn't be cold when he could sleep in a warm bag even if he had to share it with another nation.

As much as Lovino wanted to complain he couldn't Everything England had said was true. But , to show is anger at this he turned to the other side showing the blond only his back. Infuriated he heard him only chuckling before they were back to back and everything was quiet.

The Italian wasn't unused to sharing his sleeping space with someone. He had been in bed with Spain for a long time – not as in having sex, you perverts!, only sleeping beside each other – and his brother was always crawling in his bed when he wasn't at Germany's place. But he didn't think sleeping beside England would be so different.

His back was warm against the others and faintly he could feel England's heartbeat. He also could feel every breath he took and every exhale of air. It nearly seemed as if they were sharing something else besides warmth.

Romano flinched when he heard the huh-huh of an owl. The silence wasn't silent anymore and he could hear rusting here and could see the bushes shudder there. The wind suddenly whispered with the voices of thousand dead and haunted ghosts and the flames became demons straight from hell.

The natural noises frightened him more and more until he was enveloped in warmth and his head was pressed into a comforting chest.

"Stop your shivering, boy! Dear Lord, are you that cold?" And the muttering continued but Lovino ignored that. He breathed in deeply. A musky scent reminiscent of the earth clang to England, him the green man who had always roamed the forests and through whose woods storms had raged but he had stood tall.

Yet he also smelled of .. the sea? And the sky, he also smelled of the sky.

Lovino thought back to the carved dragon. He could imagine England as dragon, as part of the earth, as part of the sea and part of the sky proud and threatening in all his glory, mouth opened to spit fire, claws raised to slash foes apart.

A strong fortress of comfort, the salty scent of old stones and old empires, familiar and unfamiliar, England was all that. And Romano would deny it but he cuddled into the man and slept in his embrace.

He peacefully dreamed of white and golden and red and green and blue dragons walking on air. He peacefully dreamed of an old empire watching over him. He peacefully dreamed.


	3. The Guardian's Roses  NIEngland

Heya! This time it is Northern Ireland and England. It is a bit shorter than the others but I rather like it.

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><p>The eglantines in their pinkish dresses tilted their delicate heads to the rarely felt touch of the sun's rays, Daniels thought amused. The roses of his brothers were always beautiful yet the eglantines were the queen of roses. For him anyway.<p>

He had come to visit England since he hadn't seen him for a rather long time and kind of missed him.

And why not? England had been his world and anchor for all his life and still was. Daniels may look like 16 now but in comparison to others he was still a young nation – though he still was part of the United Kingdom - looking for someone to guide and protect him. Hell, even America was tons older than he was.

Instead of getting lost in thought and chasing after unreachable things though he knocked on the door of his home. Despite having moved out four months ago he considered it as such and when Arthur didn't answer him or invited him in he took out the spare key he still possessed.

After stepping in he slipped out of his shoes and went looking for his brother. The only thing he found were the giggling fairies all around the house that were less than helpful. They didn't like him, after all, since he nearly looked like Ireland and they had a kind of rivalry with her leprechauns . Had he been female and a bit older, at least.

Daniels sighed and was about to give up on finding England when he came upon a pavilion. He blinked and wondered since when Arthur had had one. It surely hadn't been there as he lived here.

Inside of it he encountered a sea of roses. It took his breath away. So many different kinds and so many different colours!

Enchanted he wandered through the garden until he broke through to reach a circular meadow. Well, it was not a meadow rather it was just a small place without any roses or other flowers planted and a tiny bed. The small bed was covered in petals of different flowers and some of them also touched the body of the person lying on it.

It seemed like he had found England. A book laid besides the sleeping man and it still was open. If Daniels fancied himself a detective he would assume that Arthur had gone out to read here in peace and enjoy the warmth of the sun and had fallen asleep.

Carefully as to not wake him Northern Ireland joined him on the bed and simply looked at his brother.

A blonde mop of hair, the strands flying in every direction, and a lithe – and Daniels had seen enough of Arthur in his punk phase to know that - body clothed in an old jumper and comfortable trousers slept there. His eyes lids didn't flinch and he dreamed without crying out or having otherwise unpleasant dreams.

Daniels couldn't believe that this man, sleeping innocently in a bed of roses, had once been the terror of the sea. He was shorter than he was and he never could imagine Arthur as something evil or bad, even if his people sometimes did.

Arthur had always taken care of him from the moment he had been birthed by blood and rebellion to the moment he had grown up. Always smiling softly at him, holding him in his arms when the bombs ripped him apart or he was torn in two by his own people, Arthur never let go of Daniels.

That was also why for example he didn't understand people like Ireland or America. Arthur was comforting, protecting and so very caring, why did they hurt him by abandoning him and shattering his fragile heart?

In his mind Daniels vowed to never ever leave his brother, his adorable and loveable big brother with so much space in his heart and so very many scars on it.

Vow still in mind he snuggled up to Arthur, enjoying his presence and being enveloped by the sweet scent of white and red roses- the ones his brother had brought up with so much care - and their fragrant smell was very sweet and so very England.

As he was embraced by the arms of sleep he could have sworn that somebody kissed his forehead whispering " Sleep well, my little one , in my garden of love."


	4. Lullaby for a Firecracker HKEngland

It's Hong Kong/England ^^ The song in this story isn't by me but it's "Lullaby for a Stormy Night" by Vienna Teng.

I'd really listen to it while reading this ^^

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><p>England had always allowed him to creep into his bed at night when he was young and easily afraid. Or when he had horrible dreams about monsters eating him. Or when he was haunted by bitter-sweet nightmares about China's house.<p>

Arthur had never pressed him to spill his guts when that had happened and Kaoru was very thankful for that. He wouldn't have known what to answer.

Nowadays he missed it. To be able to crawl into the bed of another person sharing his warmth with them and just basking in the presence of someone else than himself. He may be China's again but the ancient man had changed so much over the years he had been in England's care that he wasn't the same.

Kaoru watched how Vietnam and North Korea flirted with each other always landing in the others bed. He watched how both, South Korea and Japan tried to woo China who couldn't decide between the two of them and always took both to his bed. Kaoru knew about the secret relationship between Taiwan and – surprise,surprise – India who were whispering confessions of love in the moon-smitten night when they thought themselves to be alone. And he knew that he would never enter a relationship too scared to be hurt and desiring the heat of a certain island nation.

And they were all in various degrees very obvious about their love. At England's house he wouldn't have to be the third wheel everywhere since England was always there to turn to. If Kaoru asked to climb into bed with him he would lift up his covers, smirk reassuringly and invite him in.

If Hong Kong was scared he would hug him and swear to protect him and swear the he always would be on his side.

If Hong Kong was in need of emotional comfort, he would reassure him over and over again and murmur sweet nothings in his ear.

If Hong Kong was unable to sleep he would always sing him a lullaby and cradle him in those gentle and strong arms.

Unconsciously Kaoru started to sing his favorite lullaby, the one England had sung to him in nights of storm and lightning and thunder.

_Little child, be not afraid_

_Though rain pounds harshly against the glass_

_Like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger_

_I am here tonight_

His lids fluttered over his golden irises and he imagined himself to be back in time. In a time where it was not his voice echoing in the room but a soothing, British-accented one.

_Little child, be not afraid_

_The thunder explodes and lightning flash_

_Illuminates your tear-stained face_

_I am here tonight_

A smile graced Kaoru's lips as he remembered how he had always pouted at Arthur for mentioning his tear-stained face.

_And someday you'll know_

_That nature is so_

_The same rain that draws you near me_

_Falls on rivers and land_

_On forests and sand_

_Makes the beautiful world that you'll see_

_In the morning_

He had always been awed at his belief of how the rain in England would pour down on himself, Hong Kong. They are connected, he had always chirped excited at England's forgiving face. He just didn't know back then that his face was forgiving.

_Little child, be not afraid_

_The storm clouds mask your beloved moon_

_And it's candlelight beams, still keep pleasant dreams_

_I am here tonight_

_Little child, be not afraid_

_The wind makes creatures of our trees_

_And their branches to hands, they're not real, understand_

_And I am here tonight_

England always was there when fear overwhelmed him and tried to calm him down with his pretty words and pretty voice.

_And someday you'll know_

_That nature is so_

_The same rain that draws you near me_

_Falls on rivers and land_

_On forests and sand_

_Makes the beautiful world that you'll see_

_In the morning_

_For you know, once even I was a_

_Little child, and I was afraid_

_But a gentle someone always came_

_To dry all my tears, trade sweet sleep for fears_

_And to give a kiss goodnight_

He didn't believe that England who was strong and tall and on top of the world had once been like him and a trembling child. He didn't notice the lie in those words.

_Well now I am grown_

_And these years have shown_

_That rain's a part of how life goes_

_But it's dark and it's late_

_So I'll hold you and wait_

_'til your frightened eyes do close_

Rain was a part of England's life he knew. It always rained in England.

_And I hope that you'll know..._

_That nature is so_

_The same rain that draws you near me_

_Falls on rivers and land_

_On forests and sand_

_Makes the beautiful world that you'll see_

_In the morning_

_Everything's fine in the morning_

_The rain'll be gone in the morning_

_But I'll still be here in the morning_

Another lie he had uttered. The rain wasn't gone in the morning but it was gentler as if to apologize for frightening him.

And – despite all, despite everything Arthur did to make his life miserable, despite being back with his original family – he missed Arthur's gentle arms and gentle embrace. He missed to fall asleep beside the one who had captured his heart.


	5. Kingdoms and Empires fall PrussiaEngland

Kingdoms and Empires fall

Prussia cackled evilly at his artistic masterpiece.

The pub he was in was in _ruins_ and wouldn't be salvageable by the end of the night. He had somehow managed to get the cute Italy twins drunk and with them 'tonio, Franny ( though Gilbert suspected that he was faking it) and – of all people – America. Too bad Birdie had decided to be the designated driver and hadn't drunk anything.

He had had an awesome master plan! Since meetings were boring – and technically he shouldn't even be there, after all he wasn't a nation anymore per se – he suggested moving it to a bar to spice it up a bit.

The glare his brother had sent him was answer enough but he could convince the above mentioned people to have a pub crawl with him. Every pub until now had thrown them out. But this one hadn't.

And that led to the destruction wrecked by them in the moment. Romano was a violent drunk – well, he was always violent if you asked Gilbert – Antonio was even more violent – when he was drunk his conquistador side always resurfaced – but the one who was the most violent was America. And due to his strength he did the most damage.

Chuckling he wondered if having too much free time made him too diabolical. Because this was a pub in England and the costs of repairing it would be shoved onto Arthur. Also his amount of blackmail material was now much, much bigger. Who knew that it was stuffy old Brit who had taken America's virginity or that Romano actually liked potatoes?

The door of the pub was slammed open and the persons who entered made him groan. England and Germany. And they didn't seem happy.

His brother growled and the moment blue eyes found red ones Gilbert knew that he shouldn't let himself be seen for a few days if he wanted to avoid Lud's wrath. He probably wouldn't be so angry if he didn't see Feli stripping. Wait, oh my, Feli-chan was naked!

In no less than 10 minutes the both nations with sticks so far up their ass it was a wonder they didn't choke on them calmed down – or well rather tried to control – the drunk nations and now that there was a bit of order between them they argued who would go with whom.

Finally his brother sighed.

" I'll take care of Spain and the Italy twins. Ameri -" He was interrupted by a "I'm Canada" - "Canada is willing to take his brother and France. So you'll have to watch over meinen Bruder, England."

Twin shouts of "What (the bloody hell)?" rang through the air and he glared at the Brit before he tried to plead with his Bruder that he was really old enough to keep himself safe. Reluctantly the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland agreed and nodded his head seeing the sense in the other blonde's words.

But Germany remained firm with his brother. "I know you, brother. This is one of your little schemes and you have been drinking, I can smell it. Do you want a repeat of the last time I was angry at you? . England, if you don't want to, that's okay, but I won't watch Prussia. He will be let loose on your town. Do you want that?"

Both Prussia and England grimaced knowing what Ludwig said was 100% correct.

As England drove his car to his house he had Gilbert on his passenger seat bored out of his awesome mind. Neither of them spoke but the disdain was clear in the air.

Over the rest of the evening not one word ran through the halls of the beautiful Londoner house. Not as they entered, not as they prepared for bed – England graciously let him stay in his spare room – and not as they parted.

Prussia himself was fuming. How dare his brother treat him that way! And how dare England lord that over him! He would pay them back tenfold. In that moment he had a flash of genius. He really was the overlord of evil master plans fated for success.

He conveniently forgot that England was just as pleased about the albino staying at his home and playing babysitter as he was. He also forgot that he was quite drunk and he happened to be fine for awhile before losing all strength. Oh well.

Like a white shadow he slowly and with utmost care tiptoed to the room he determined to be the blond's . He was lucky the door was slightly open and he could see that England was laying on the bed on his stomach his back turned to the door and head on his crossed arms.

Such an easy victim- ehh, he meant target, ehh. And he made a mental note to stop hanging out with Birdie so much. He was awesome – not nearly as awesome as him though – but still. Next he'd start loving Maple syrup – he already did, oh mein Gott!- and be a hockey fanatic – thankfully he wasn't.

Red eyes never left his prey before he ran and jumped. Directly on the Brit's back. A crack and a yelp courtesy of the blond was his satisfying result. When those deadly acid green eyes bore through his, however, he knew he had to find an excuse and fast. So he stammered that he couldn't sleep and please wouldn't be England such a nice, big, great and powerful and kind Empire to let him sleep with him.

At this clearly fabricated story the nation rolled his eyes but at the puppy stare Prussia sent him he sighed and made a tiny bit space for him.

For a while they just laid there and nobody said a word. But Prussia got bored pretty fast rolling a round a bit and now that he had told the old man – he ignored that he probably was older than England – that he wanted to sleep with him he felt kind of sleepy and weak. He hated feeling weak.

" Oh, you bloody git. Stop moving around so much or I'll kick you out of bed!" The blond clearly was irritated, you just had to hear his voice.

Yet he whined. It sounded tired out even to his own ears.

"But I can't." Then he stopped moving for a second the alcohol finally showing an effect. Not only on his body – that seemed to possess no power anymore – but also on his mind. Wouldn't it be that way his thoughts wouldn't turn more somber.

Prussia hated thinking and speaking in a serious way. Speaking seriously only meant bad things and catastrophic events. Thinking seriously was even worse.

When his mind took the path of serious musings and philosophizing he would always sooner or later return to his days as empire – or rather his time as kingdom.

Nobody thought he was aware that he was more than past his glory and prime – he should be dead, after all! But he was. He truly was aware.

How could he not have been?

Everyday it got harder to stand up. To lift a sword that was as light as a feather in his glory days took more strength than he had these days. The connection with his people lessened every new day now that they saw themselves as German and not as Prussian. It was only a matter of time until he began to fade.

Who would miss him he wondered?

His little brother? He had Feli.

Franny? Bah, too much contests awaited the flirty man. He hadn't tapped all asses of the world yet and he would soon forget old Gil.

Tonio? That man was too preoccupied with his grumpy Italian to care if his old friend vanished or not.

That aristocrat with a stick up his ass? He would dance on his grave – if he had one anyway.

Eliza? Surely not. Too busy enamored with her precious Roddi and man on man action …

Birdie? Well, yes, Birdie would miss him, very much so, but nobody else.

His thoughts were interrupted when he was embraced by rather frail arms and surprised he looked at the Brit who only grumbled out that bloody hell he couldn't help that Gilbert looked so pathetic he couldn't do anything but hug him.

The albino chuckled earnestly. Ohh, so England had a cute side as well? He could make out the blush on his face. So adorable!

He pushed his head against those arms, pale they were – not as pale as his – and like he said weak and frail. Gilbert wouldn't have believed that the man had been the terror of the sea or one of the wildest sex kitten he had ever had wouldn't he have experienced it.

But Prussia had nothing against cute things and – he would deny it if asked or claim it was the alcohol that made him do it – snuggled against England's side. And silence took over once more.

It was only broken as Prussia was almost asleep. It was just a whispered passage of uncertain words reassuring and warm in their intent but they meant the world to the the old eagle.

"I'm not sure what made you look so sad but I can guess. You think back to your Kingdom days and think about your situation right now, right? I'll tell you what I can understand that and also the urge to just end it all before enduring the long road of decay. But kingdoms fall. And Empires fall. But there are still people who love you."

A harsh breath was let out.

" Bloody git, that all sounded better in my head. Don't be so depressive, that is all I want to say. And I still hate you. And I must be drunk from just your breath."

England hid his probably burning face in ice cold hair of soft snow.

Prussia just snorted and smiled in the arms of the other.

_Yeah, sure, you hate me, dear pirate kitten. But thank you. _


	6. Pride of An Unicorn VenezianoEngland

This last one is Veneziano(North Italy) / England. It's the last one ^^

* * *

><p>Pride of an Unicorn<p>

Arthur didn't dare to believe his eyes. He had finally snapped or started hallucinating like America always assumed he did but this time for real.

Because in front of his door stood a beaming Veneziano with several bags in his arms waiting to be let in. His entire face was drowned out by the wide smile on it as he chirped.

"Ve~ England let me in already. Those bags are heavy."

England looked at the Italian for a moment, his glare menacing at being ordered in his own country, and simply stated "No."

The island nation's glare was one of the worst in history but Italy didn't move a muscle. Even if all his instincts screamed "Run!" and "Danger!" for once he braved it betraying his Italian ancestry and met the challenge head on. Germany would have been proud.

"I'm not able to do that, England." Then the brunette smiled, very cutely should be mentioned. " You see, you see, I'm sleeping with you tonight!"

All self-control Arthur possessed flew out of the window at that sentence and the shock was obvious on his face.

It was the whole deal. Open mouth, wide open eyes with dilated pupils, cherry blush staining his cheeks and all that. Veneziano found it rather amusing to see the usually so composed nation like that.

Finally the spluttered response came.

" D-do you have no shame? Telling me that … and what makes you think I want to have sex with you?"

"Ve~? Who says something about having sex? I just want to sleep beside you!" The Italian tilted his head to his right side and asked. "Do you want to? I'm sorry I can't do that. It would be cheating on Ludwig!" And with a " Grazie~ ve~!" he squeezed himself through the door and made his way towards the kitchen to put his bags down leaving an astonished England behind.

The house was rather warm. In the corridor the walls were a nice yellow, not too washed out or too dark or too bright and created the illusion of sun although a glance out of the window would reveal storm clouds. Various trinkets were laying around. Veneziano spotted various carved figures along both walls, a painting of one of his own people hanging on one wall and on the other an ancient mirror.

Its frame was golden but the gold was dark from age and dust (Ve~ didn't England take care better of his things?). The glass was strangely clear except for the spiderweb like cracks running through it. They caused his reflection to be distorted and he shuddered. Such an eerie aura came from the mirror .. so scary …

A cough behind him made Feliciano turn around – thankfully – and he came face to face with a very irritated England. He just smiled at the island nation before twittering " I'm in the kitchen making lunch~" and off he was.

* * *

><p>Preparing a meal was always relaxing. Cutting up ingredients, carefully arranging them and then just going with the natural flow of cooking. Of course everything had to be done very carefully, with very much concentration and be given very much thought! Or everything – all the cooking – would be for nothing! Yes, it was very relaxing. At least for Veneziano and he thought for such a bad cook England had a rather well equipped kitchen.<p>

While he lost himself in the automatic motions of doing what he could do best he contemplated the true reason for his visit.

It was true that he wanted to sleep beside England for one night. But he wanted to do that because fratello had blushingly confessed that that time when he and England were lost in the woods and he was injured and had slept in the arms of the island nation … he said it had been one of the best sleeps he had ever had.

And fratello rarely slept good. Sure he took siestas all day long but they were not good sleeps. Veneziano would describe them as alert naps which weren't relaxing at all. North Italy cherished relaxing times indeed and he couldn't get his head around it that South Italy wouldn't allow himself any of these truly relaxing times.

But if England's bed side was even relaxing for his brother Veneziano really wanted to try it once too! The bonus that he could thank England for taking care of his brother when he was hurt in a round-about way by making him lunch was also great.

Time passed rather fast when a force of nature raged in his house, England concluded. He couldn't have stopped Italy from taking control of his kitchen nor from staying the whole afternoon and evening. Bloody Hell, the Italian even managed to get him to play with him!

He got complimented on his singing voice when they did karaoke although he could clearly see that Veneziano had a better one. About painting and drawing skills they didn't even have to argue. But the Italian was fascinated by his carvings – just like his brother – and freely admitted that he had no skill whatsoever in that.

Struck by an impulse he didn't really understood England told Veneziano that for the rest of the day – it was late afternoon by then – he could do what he desired in his house just not interrupt him while he went to work on his garden.

Arthur took two pieces of wood and carved. The whole afternoon and evening long. He was satisfied with the two figures he produced in the end when he noticed that it was deepest night already. You didn't really notice that in a little hut where you had already turned on the light.

At least, when he returned to the insides of his house nothing seemed broken. But he was surprised when a small brunette threw himself into his arms and cried that he was so scared and it was so dark and please now that he was here couldn't poor little Feli sleep with him?

Quivering lip. Tears coming out of the corner of his eyes. And his whole body trembling. Something didn't sit well with Arthur in that whole picture – maybe Italy was faking? - but he had always been weak to children – and that's what his guest looked like.

* * *

><p>Veneziano was faking, for that matter. He had been afraid that England had changed his mind and planned to be away all night. So while both of them made themselves ready for bed he entertained victorious thoughts.<p>

It was actually a very nice bed room, he thought. Just like the whole house. If it wouldn't be for the cold weather and England's lack of edible food he could see himself visiting the poor lonely island nation more often than before. Oh, and he'd had to work on his behaviour but that wasn't a too pressing matter.

When they had settled in the bed – he had been forced to wear pajamas even though they were restricting! - he had … persuaded Arthur to take him into his arms.

And with a good night the light was turned off and he felt Arthur vanishing into the lands of night, the dream land that was quite wonderful.

At first he didn't notice what his brother had meant and pouted. But when he was hugged tighter by England and his head was pressed into his chest, he began to understand.

The chest wasn't overly hard like Ludwig's, not as muscular and reassuring , but they gave comfort as being stronger than his own yet not overpowering. At the same time he wasn't as soft as fratello who would sometimes moan about it but not do anything.

In short he was a mix between his two most favourite persons in the world. The bum-bum of his heart was also somehow .. relaxing. And fratello was right when he claimed that England had this scent of ancient empires combined with wood!

Unlike his brother, though, he couldn't see England as dragon. He was much too fragile for that. If someone was a dragon, it was Germany! Furious and vicious and protecting! While his brother and him were more like sylvan creatures, spirits that can be strong but mostly are prone to flight before fight.

Now England, England was something else entirely.

From what he had seen England was frightening , yes, but mostly to his enemies. He loved children, that was clear as day. Feli smiled and could only think that children had to be loved. They were innocent! And cute!

Innocence …

Perhaps England could be an unicorn? They were said to be enchanted by innocence, right? And they had a horn , so they could attack and protect like England always did? And they were prideful … just like England …

While he searched for more and more reason why the image of an unicorn would fit the nation beside him, Veneziano slipped into a deep uninterrupted slumber. He would be thrown out of the house the next morning and would arrive pouting at his house in Rome.

His brother would snicker and ask why he hadn't been killed and how he had liked sleeping beside the 'tea bastard'. Veneziano would smile and gleefully tell him the whole story and unpack his bag.

And he would find two carved figures in there: a dragon for Romano and an unicorn for Veneziano.

* * *

><p>The End<p> 


	7. AN

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

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